


You Love to Sing (I Put It In a Song)

by the_painless_moustache



Category: One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: Bressie writes prophetic lyrics apparently, Cannon compliant, Get-Together Fic, I spent so much time on the 1d wiki to get this calendar right, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nessie Summer Fanwork Fest, Olympics 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: Bressie gets enough liquid courage in him that he tries to kiss Niall after his performance at the Olympics.Niall pulls away.





	You Love to Sing (I Put It In a Song)

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S HERE! THE SUMMER NESSIE FANWORK FEST IS HERE AND I'M SO STOKED!  
> Thank you to the fest creators for...creating the fest. (Their tumblr is [here](https://nessiefandom.tumblr.com/)) And thank you to [Jay,](http://nessielover.tumblr.com/) my wonderful beta who diligently took my panicked request for a last minute read without batting an eye  
> And thanks to you, for reading!  
> (Oh, and also thanks to Nessie for being in love)

 It sort of appears from nowhere. One second Bressie is nursing his pint and the next he's got a guitar in his hands. He sees Niall shouting from across the table, but it gets drowned out by the others until he waves for them to shut their mouths so he can sort of make out what Niall's yelling.

 "Play us a song!"

 "No," is Bressie's immediate answer but then he starts getting elbowed on both sides and Niall is leading them all in a chant. The idea hits him while looking at Niall, hair still crookedly styled from a few hours before and a fleck of confetti caught behind his ear. _Fine_ , he thinks. If he wants a song, Bressie will play him a song.

 " _You're insecure_ ," he starts, and that's all he needs before everyone else is singing for him. Niall groans, hiding behind his hands, but the people next to him start to shake his shoulders until he's laughing and singing along, too.

 After he's finished the song and another pint, he hands the guitar off to disappear again and makes for the door. Something about the crowd and the beer and performing has made him too warm, and even though it's August the night is cool enough to calm him.

 Niall appears a moment later and bumps their arms together with a crooked smile. "Thanks for that."

Bressie can't stop the grin from crossing his face. "For what? Butchering your song?"

Niall rolls his eyes. "No, you big-headed dolt. For..." Niall trails off then, face getting uncharacteristically serious as he studies the ground. He doesn't say anything else until Bressie nudges his shoulder, and then he scrubs a hand through his hair with a shrug. "Just for being you, I guess." he mutters lamely.

Bressie rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Little. Don't get shy now. What's on your mind?"

He hesitates still, but eventually he coughs out "I'm glad you're my friend, is all. I'm not sure where'd I'd be tonight if you weren't."

Bressie frowns and turns towards him. "What's that mean?"

Niall shakes his head and flashes Bressie another smile, though this one definitely doesn't reach his eyes. "Nah, I'm just knackered, aren't I? Talking shite. Should probably get going."

Bressie takes his elbow even though Niall hasn't made to move from his side yet. "Niall, you know I care about ye." Niall waves a hand, but Bressie shakes him. "Niall."

The fake smile falls off his face and he nods seriously. "Yeah, Brez, I know."

"Then why do I feel like you don't?"

Niall worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before gesturing back at the pub. "I know they see me as a joke." he admits, defeated. "I'm in a fucking _boy band_ Bressie, I—I know how they see us."

"They're wrong," Bressie says, and he's never been more sure about anything in his life. "Niall, _they're wrong_. You're talented, all of you. And Christ, even if you weren't, what gives them the fucking right to judge? Chief, you just performed in the goddamn Olympics." Bressie laughs and grabs the back of Niall's neck with his other hand to squeeze. Niall gives him a genuine smile then, shoulders relaxing. "If you think that's some joke you've got a weird sense of humor."

"Whatever," Niall snorts, but he's still smiling. He pushes a hand against Bressie's chest. "You're as drunk as I am. Drunker, probably."

"Probably," Bressie chuckles. "But being drunk dunna make me a liar."

"Makes you red-faced." Niall tells him, poking him in the stomach this time. Bressie grossly overcompensates from the tiny shove and Niall has to brace both hands on his chest to keep them from crashing together.  "And _heavy_ , Christ!"

"Aw, c'mon, Chief." Bressie teases. "After all I've done, can't even keep me on me feet?"

"Not when you weigh a goddamn ton," Niall laughs as he pushes, but Bressie pushes too. "C'mon, Brez, I'm gonna actually drop you."

He's not really sure what makes him do it. It could be the alcohol, it could be the warm lighting or the crinkle of Niall's eyes. It could just be outright bad decision making. Whatever it is, he leans hard enough on Niall's hands that Niall stumbles back. This gives him an excuse to move his hand from his elbow to his hip, bringing him right up against Bressie's chest and close enough that all Bressie has to do is duck his chin a bit...

Niall reels back before they can actually kiss, mouth and eyes wide open, and Bressie feels that look like a spear of ice into his gut. He stands straight and takes both hands off him. "Sorry," he blurts, suddenly— _horribly_ —sober. "I'm sorry."

"No," Niall grabs the front of his shirt before he can turn around. "It's okay, I was just surprised. Bressie, it's okay."

"No, it's—it's not okay, because..." Bressie trails off as the reasons flood into his mind and overwhelm him. He suddenly feels like he's going to be sick. "It's not okay." he finds himself saying again, firmer, and he pushes Niall's hand off him.

 He's not really sure where he's going when he walks away, but he knows he can't stay there. He can't stay in that bar with Niall and pretend he's not hurt by the rejection. He can't stand the awkwardness that's just begun to bloom between them. He can't stand the pity in his eyes, in the eyes of anyone else who figures it out.

 Maybe it makes him a coward, but he runs.

***

Niall makes a habit of trying to spend his birthday in Mullingar. This year, Louis comes with him and leads the pub in a chorus of _He's A Jolly Good Fellow_ three times. It settles him a little bit, to have Louis there. Even though Mullingar is still home, even though his friends are still his friends and his family is still his family, they all look at him a little differently.

 Louis has none of it. He diffuses all awkwardness and makes Niall feel like _Niall_ again, and makes the others look at him like such. Even his brother doesn't have a single bad word to say to the two of them the whole night, going so far as to hug him and drunkenly mutter that he's proud. It's a solid birthday; singing, a mountain of free drinks, and no shortage of company. He should end the night feeling well-loved and well-drunk.

Instead he ends it feeling lost because Bressie never shows.

Niall's birthday is no secret to him, and even beyond that Bressie rarely misses a chance to hang with him in Mullingar. He'd texted him several times since the night of the Olympics—the night of their almost-maybe-kiss. He'd sent him one just yesterday asking if he'd make it for tonight. There's never an answer, though, and this one is no different. There's not even a generic _Happy Birthday_ at the end of the night.

 He's pretty sure he's managed to shrug most of it off. He has plenty of friends to take his attention, he doesn't _need_ Bressie to be there every time. Bressie doesn't owe him anything. It's not until the bar empties and he's pushed his brother into a cab that he really feels it crush him.

 Louis notices. It's possible Louis had noticed earlier in the night but chosen not to say anything. He nods for Niall to follow him and starts swaggering in the direction of Niall's dad's house. It's late enough that neither of them are particularly worried about being papped or swarmed, so Niall falls into step beside them.

 "Good birthday then, Nialler?" Louis asks lightly, plucking his cigarettes from his back pocket. Niall says nothing as he watches him light it, because he knows the question is a trap. Louis slides him a look. "You get enough to drink?"

 "What are you getting at, Louis?"

 Louis smirks and nudges a rock ahead a few feet. "You've had a cloud over you for awhile. Seems to have started dropping rain this evening."

 Niall gives him half a laugh and kicks the rock as they cross it. "S'nothing."

 "Not nothing. It's ruining your perfectly acceptable birthday."

 "Perfectly acceptable?"

 Louis blows a stream of smoke up into the night. "Would've liked better music."

 That gets him to snort, and then he sighs heavily as his thoughts start getting away from him. He has no reason to lie to Louis, especially since he's offering to listen, so he says "Bressie didn't come."

Louis takes a long look at him while taking a drag, and then he lets it all out in a sigh. "That's the big one, innit? Your, ah, mentor or whatever?"

Niall's stomach sours, but it's not untrue. He shrugs for lack of anything better to do. "Yeah. Just...just thought he'd come, is all."

 Louis hums, catching the rock with his toe. Niall watches it skip ahead of them. "Was he busy?"

 "Dunno. Haven't heard from him in weeks." Louis says nothing, just watches him as they walk. They trade turns kicking the rock across the road for a few minutes before the weight gets to be too much and Niall breaks. "He almost kissed me last month. I flinched, and now he's—he won't..." _Won't see me, won't talk to me, won't be there for me anymore._ He swallows around the lump in his throat.

Louis flicks his cigarette down and snuffs it out. "Did you want him to kiss you?"

"Yeah, I did. Or—I thought I did. I should've. I've liked him for ages, I was just—I was so surprised. It was out of nowhere. One second we were talking and the next he was coming in and I just panicked.

Louis's feet shuffle a little. "He's a bit older than you, Nialler."

 Niall kicks the rock hard enough that it bounces off into the ditch. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets himself simmer for a second with the words. He knows Bressie is older, he knows that he's still technically a teenager, only an adult by law. Bressie is a grown up, a grown up who's had grown up relationships. Who wants grown up things. Who by every right shouldn't want Niall, but he'd tried to kiss him so that _means_ something. He knows it does. It has to, age be damned.

"Right," Louis drawls when he realizes Niall's not going to say anything else. "Well, you've got two options here, don't you?"

"Do I?"

"Sure.” He puts one finger up. “You could forget about it, move on. Date someone your brother would approve of." That at least gets a half-smile out of Niall, and Louis nudges his arm. "Or you go after him."

He shakes his head. "But what if—"

 Louis throws his head back to assist with his eye roll. "Christ, Niall, _what if_. What if I'd gotten into X-factor the first time around? What if they hadn't reopened auditions in Dublin? What if Liam hadn't ever gotten better, or Zayn hadn't gotten out of bed? What if Harry was still a fucking baker?" Niall laughs and Louis grins at him. "Life's a game of chance, all you gotta do is take it."

 Niall considers this in the following silence. He can see his house off in the distance, one light left on by his dad for them. His phone, tucked in his back pocket, suddenly feels far too heavy for him. _What if_ , he thinks again, but there's too many and Louis is right. He knows that. Finally he bumps his elbow into him, making him jump. "You're a bit of a genius, you know that?"

 Louis snorts and throws an arm around his shoulders. "Took you long enough."

***

Niall shows up on Bressie's doorstep in November. Bressie had heard about his new album dropping, had drafted a dozen different texts telling him how proud he was but of course had never sent them. He'd done the same on Niall's birthday, but there was a part of him that wasn't ready for the conversation that would have to follow.

Looking at Niall bundled up on his stoop, he knows he's still not ready.

"I'd have called, but I didn't think you'd pick up." Niall says. It carries a slight edge to it, but the smile he gives is genuine if cautious.

Bressie clears his throat with a stiff shrug. "Well. Been busy."

"I figured, since you didn't come to my birthday."

Bressie's heart aches in his chest. He has to look over Niall's shoulder because honestly looking him in the eye is impossible right now. "I meant to tell you, I—I had—"

 "Bressie," Niall says softly. It cuts his voice off more effectively than a foghorn. Bressie finally looks at him, and there's knowing there. It's not that Bressie hadn't been _obvious_ about avoiding him, but Niall's rarely one to call someone out. His expression turns sad. "I just came to talk, okay? I can't stand the silence anymore."

 Despite his best efforts his shoulders go tight and his voice is defensive when he says "Niall, there isn't anything to talk about."

 You'd think Bressie had run over Niall's dog given the look he gets. "Is that really how you feel? Is this just how we are now?"

 Bressie's shoulders fall with the thought of never having another chance at being even _vaguely_ friendly with Niall again. He hadn't thought about it, really, how long he was going to freeze himself out of Niall's presence. He _definitely_ hadn't thought about the long-term effects of it.

 He's really done a magnificent job of fucking it all up.

 Niall takes his silence as confirmation and moves to turn. "Wait," Bressie blurts. "Niall, wait. That's—no, I don't..." He sighs in frustration, rubbing his eyes. "I don't want that. I'm sorry. This is hard for me."

 "It's not exactly a cake walk for me, either." Niall points out. "I've been trying to get you to talk to me for months and I had to corner you in your own home to even get a chance. Do you think that makes me feel _good?_ "

 "No," Bressie admits. "No, I don't think that feels good."

 "I don't want to be mad at you, Bressie, but what am I supposed to think? You try to kiss me but I fucked it up, and I know that. But before I could even fix it you just vanish. It's honestly a miracle you're still in the same country as me."

 Bressie's not really sure what to say to that. Part of him had been nursing his wounds a little, the idea of Niall not wanting him stinging but not totally unexpected. But most of him had known that wasn't the case. His issues with what he did had nothing to do with whether or not Niall would want him back, but instead had everything to do with whether or not either of them _should_.

Luckily, Niall barrels on without him. "And now I'm here, I've come here despite knowing you don't want me to because I want to make things _right_. I want to fix this and—and you tell me you have _nothing_ to say? Even if you were mad, even if you just wanted to yell at me for being an idiot...I just wanted you to talk to me."

 "I don't want to yell at you, Niall." Bressie says softly. "I was upset, but I shouldn't have been this cold to you. You don't deserve that, even if you didn't want to kiss me."

 Niall shakes his head. "Bressie, I _did_ want to kiss you. I still want to kiss you. I'll kiss you right now to prove it."

 Bressie doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to tell him that as badly as Bressie would love to kiss him right now, there's so many reasons not to; so many _good_ reasons, ones that have been piling up in the weeks that they've been apart.

 Niall doesn't let him say anything, though. His face falls flat in the wake of Bressie's stuffy silence."You didn't want to kiss me."

"No," Bressie blurts. "Niall, no. That's not—Niall, wait!" Niall's down the stairs and already fast-walking away from Bressie's doorstep. Luckily, Bressie has longer legs and it takes nothing to skip down the steps and catch his jacket sleeve. "Niall, stop."

"Don't _patronize me_." Niall snaps, ripping out of his grip. There's tears threatening in his eyes. "You don't have to protect my fucking feelings, okay? I get it. We're—we're better off like this."

"Will you just fucking _listen?_ " Bressie snaps, grabbing his whole arm this time. Niall sneers at him, but he pushes on anyway. "Niall, I _wanted_ to kiss you, alright? I _still_ _do_ , but we can't, alright? We can't. I want to, but we can't."

 Niall's face opens up in his shock. His arm goes limp in Bressie's grip. "What do you mean we can't?"

 Bressie swallows and lets him go. He can't talk about this and have his hands on Niall. He can't, because every bone in his body wants to drag him into a hug and never let him go. "You're only nineteen, Niall, and your face is on every TV screen in the world. You've got _so much_ ahead of you."

Niall's face crumples again, only this time a hundred times worse. " _What?_ What—what does that even _mean?_ Why does any of that matter?"

"Niall," Bressie touches his shoulder instead of cupping his face like he wants to. "You can't put your whole career on the line for me. If you came out, it would change everything. And—and if you didn't, and somehow people found out, it would be even worse."

Niall swats the hand off his shoulder. "Why do you get to make that decision? What gives you the fucking right to decide that for me?"

"I'm not deciding anything, Niall. That's just how things are."

"It's how _you've_ made it." Niall argues. "I know you think you need to take care of me, protect me from the world or whatever, but news flash: I don't want you to protect me. I just wanted you to _be there_." He draws up as tall as he can, throat working as his eyes glisten. He finally shakes his head and looks away from him. "But you couldn't even do that, so...so I'm done."

Bressie can't do much but stare when Niall turns, shoulders hunched as he makes his way back down the street. The only thing that he can think is a repeating loop of _you did this to yourself_.

***

The band keeps Niall busy until Christmas, when everyone heads for home. Niall's so conflicted about going back to Mullingar he actually considers only spending Christmas day itself in Ireland before flying back to London. Only the thought just makes him ache, because Mullingar is his home, too, and he knows Bressie would pull Ireland and England together with his bare hands if he thought Niall was even considering not coming home for Christmas.

 That's probably the hardest bit about all of this. He wants more than anything to be mad at Bressie, and he is— _oh he is_ —but he understands, too. Bressie is one of his closest friends, and they didn't get that way by never talking about their feelings. He knows how much Bressie hates how public everything is when you're famous, how nothing ever stays quiet forever. Bressie considers the lime-light a necessary sacrifice for his music, not a pleasant side effect. Still, Niall knows without a doubt that Bressie fights for things he wants, and that's what hurts him the most. The thought that Niall isn't something worth fighting for.

He ends up flying in on the twenty third, weather and availability forcing his hand on the date. The flight is fine, but seeing that his dad is waiting on the other side of security with a warm jumper and a warmer smile really brings the Christmas spirit he's been lacking. Niall feels the whole world roll off his shoulders in an instant and shoves away from his security to get a moment alone to hug his dad. His arms are already open by the time Niall crashes into his chest. "Missed you," he mutters.

"Missed you, too, Nially." Bobby chuckles with a firm pat. Bobby's better than some dads with the hugging thing, but Niall's only really gotten into touch being a sign of affection since being with the boys which means Bobby doesn't hug nearly as tightly as Niall wishes he would. He eases back with a tired smile and Bobby takes his face in one hand, smooshing his cheeks with an exaggerated frown. "You losing weight? Told you not to let that Harry make you feel bad. Stringy little thing."

"M'fine, da." Niall chuckles, shoving him off. Bobby gives him another easy smile and tosses an arm over his shoulder. "Happy to be home."

"Happy to have you, Nially."

Airport security gets him to his dad's car, and from there he's blissfully alone. He gets the need for the security—each of them have been caught alone enough times to understand—but it still gets exhausting having someone constantly watching you, hand on your elbow pushing you from place to place as quickly as possible to eliminate the chance of threats. Bobby is the exact opposite. He'd let Niall walk circles around the car park if he wanted, never making a peep about any kind of schedule.

He doesn't do that, though. He just slips into the car and sinks into the seat. His dad's car isn't nearly as nice as it could be consider Niall's paycheck, but to him it's all the better for having only one heating vent that works and a clunky shift. Niall's spent weeks locked in smooth, quiet cars and is going to be spending even more time in a bus with the rest of the lads come February. The simplicity of his life back here is so refreshing after all of it. Not that Niall doesn't appreciate the fame, or enjoy the perks. It's just nice to have things stay the same.

No one else is at the house when they pull in, but everything is decorated for the big lunch they'll have on Christmas. The nice dishes are set out, ready for washing, and the tree is decorated. There's a string of lights on the front eaves of the house and a wreath on the door. It's quiet and simple, like his dad. Like he used to be.

Later that night while they're washing dishes, his dad ambushes him. Niall's elbow deep in dishwater, grey with dust, and his dad is wiping a plate dry when he says "You talked to Bressie lately?"

Niall's fingers slip over the wine glass he's cleaning and it clatters back into the sink, splashing water all over his shirt. He clears his throat and picks it back up as nonchalantly as possible. "Bressie? No, not really."

His dad makes no comment on his slip. "He's in for Christmas."

Niall doesn't make eye contact when he passes over the wine glass. "S'nice."

"Thought it was strange, you know." his dad drawls. "That he didn't come to your birthday. You two are pretty close."

Niall shrugs. "He was busy, da."

"Or did you have a fight?"

Niall looks at him, at the knowing raise of his eyebrows. Surely he can't know that Bressie tried to kiss him. Maybe that Niall had a crush, because Niall's not a subtle bloke, but he can't know about that. His dad glances over at him. "Bressie's mom." he explains with a tiny smirk.

"What did she say?" Niall mumbles, and it's as good as an admission of guilt.

"That Bressie's been a mess. Asked if you were going to be here. Talked about staying in London for the holiday. She took a guess, thought I'd do the same."

"It's nothin'." Niall grunts, grabbing a bowl next.

"Niall," his dad sighs heavily. "C'mon, lad."

"Just a difference of opinion, is all."

"Did he find out that you...well, you know." There it is. So he did know. Niall glares at him weakly. He just shrugs. "Just askin'."

"You don't wanna hear about this, dad." Niall assures him, passing the bowl and grabbing a plate.

"Maybe," he hums. "But I am here to listen if _you_ want me to."

And the thing is, he kind of does want to tell him. Niall and his dad are close, they share things. Having him as a single dad had sort of forced their hands on that. And after Niall left for X-Factor, it had made them that much closer. So, he _does_ want to tell him, but there is the whole fact that Bressie is thirteen years older and not just _someone_. Oh no, this isn't Niall coming home with someone they can all call a mistake in the future. This is _Bressie_.

And it all sort of clicks, then.

Niall wipes his hands on his jeans. "I have to go out, I—I won't be long."

"Wha—" His dad blinks at him as he runs from the kitchen. "Well, do you need the car or—"

"I won't be long!" Niall shouts over his shoulder as he grabs his jacket.

***

Bressie's thumbing through twitter aimlessly when there's a knock on the door. It's a lot like being a teenager again, leaning back to watch his mom cross from the kitchen and swat his head lovingly on her way to answer it. Andy lands at the bottom of the stairs just as their mom makes it, smiling sweetly even though Bressie's almost entirely sure she had no intention of opening the door.

"Oh, hello, Niall."  his mom greets brightly. Bressie's stomach instantly feels like lead. "You just get in?"

"No, not exactly. Is Bressie here?"

"Sure. Bressie, sweetheart, Niall's—"

"Yeah, I heard, Mam." He agrees, hopping to his feet. She rolls her eyes and lets Niall in. He looks flushed by the cold, hair disheveled and coat misbuttoned. "Hey, Nialler."

He swallows, breathing a little roughly. Bressie frowns at the realization he must've run here. "Can we talk?"

Andy and his mom exchange looks before vanishing into the kitchen. Bressie crosses into the foyer, and Niall pushes the door shut behind him. "I should've texted." Bressie admits. "I know, but—"

"Christ, Bressie, it's _Christmas_." Niall huffs. "I'm not mad you came home for Christmas." Then he shakes his head. "Actually, that's why I'm here. To tell you that I'm not mad _at all_." When Bressie just stares, Niall nods as if to emphasize the point. "I'm not, I—I get it now. I get why you're scared."

His first instinct is to tell Niall he isn't scared, but he holds it back because the truth is he's _terrified_. As usual, Niall keeps rolling on without him.

"My dad talked to your mom, who guessed that we were fighting. And—and my dad said he would listen if I wanted to talk about it, which I know he would, but I still didn't want to tell him and...and I understand, Bressie. It's scary what other people think, not just all of them." He waves a hand towards the door, and then points towards the kitchen. "But _them_."

Bressie knows he blushes, he can feel it in the apples of his cheeks and under his ears. Niall's face goes from manic to soft with a little smile. He doesn't really feel comfortable standing this open—this _bared—_ in front of Niall, who is laying out Bressie's fears at his feet. He crosses his arms defensively and shrugs. "Yeah, Niall, it's—it's terrifying, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, that's—I don't—" Niall sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Look, I understand, and maybe we aren't ready for that. Maybe it is too much. But they're our families and they love us, and when you are ready...I'll be there with you, yeah?" He pauses, eyes going soft again. He gives Bressie the barest hint of a smile, hope lighting up his face. "For better or worse, I'll be right next to you. When you're ready for me."

He definitely doesn't have the alcohol to blame this time, but he feels drunk all the same when he grabs Niall by the arm and hauls him forward. Niall doesn't flinch away this time, actually grabs the front of his shirt with both hands and uses it to lever himself up and close the gap like he's afraid Bressie won't.

Bressie's always been a romantic sort, but he'll swear until the day he dies that it's no exaggeration when he says his first kiss with Niall is the stuff of legends. No awkward nose bumps, no chapped lips. Niall pushes into his mouth easily with a tiny smile and Bressie's heart does something strange and achy in his chest, but it's the kind of achy that he never really wants to end.

When Niall drops back onto his heels, he's beaming. "So that's a yes?"

"Yeah," Bressie chuckles. "Yeah, it is."

***

There's a tradition he and Bressie's family both have of going to the pub before mass. They don't actually go together, but they all end up in the same pub and they all go to the same mass together so it's not uncommon for their families to blend during the evening.

The pub is hot and full of old friends that clap Niall on the back and give him and his family drinks the moment they walk in the door. This is really Niall's favorite part of home, how easy it is to still feel like part of it. How easy they make it to do that, even after everything.

The Breslins wander in a little later, having had a Christmas supper instead of a Christmas lunch. He and Bressie make eye contact almost immediately. Their kiss two days ago was not a magical fix by any means, but it's definitely easier to look at Bressie knowing that he's got the same stupid smile on his face for the same stupid reason. Willie starts whistling _Kissing in a Tree_ and looks away innocently when Niall glares at him.

It takes almost an hour before he and Bressie end up next to each other, and it's very much not an accident because Bressie appears with a guitar and drops into the seat next to him with a smug grin. He shoves it at him and says "C'mon, Nialler, play us a song."

It doesn't take long for the rest of the pub to pick up the chant, and this is _absolutely_ payback for what happened after the Olympics. Niall's not used to playing in such a tight space, but it's hard to say no with everyone looking and Bressie giving him that eager nod.

He's not sure Bressie recognizes it when he starts, but it sure doesn't take him long. The chords aren't quite right because they weren't even written for guitar, but Niall tweaks them out anyway because he can't think of a better song to sing. Niall sings the first few lines alone, " _Weekend calls, and I'm climbing up the walls..._ "

 The pub hoots and hollers and Niall kicks Bressie in the shin after he rolls through the chorus. Bressie laughs and hooks an arm over his shoulders. " _In a bar, with my piece of shit guitar..._ " he sings and Niall knows that if he wasn't already completely obvious then the look on his face currently would give away all his feelings about the man sitting next to him.

It sounds different like this, just a guitar and them and the rest of the pub. It sounds so wonderfully like home. Bressie's smile tells him he feels the same. When the song finishes, the pub cheers and claps Bressie on the shoulder because they can't reach Niall and drinks slide in front of them. Bressie squeezes him and says "Thanks."

"For what?" Niall gives him a sly grin. "Butchering your song?"

"Yeah," Bressie agrees, and Niall kicks his shin under the table. He squeezes him a little closer and lowers his mouth to his ear. "But also for being you."

Niall smiles around the rim of his glass. For whatever happens in the future, he knows that he'll have this and right now, it feels like more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> If you leave a nice comment, I'll love you forever (or at least give you a cool high five)  
> [My tumblr!](http://thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/)


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